Anno Domini Voldemort
by Seguchi Touma
Summary: (in Progress) Yaoi/slash - Voldemort won the war. The survivors try to put their lives together in the aftermath and reclaim those that they love.
1. The World Ended

Title: ** Anno Domini Voldemort**  
Author: Seguchi Touma  
Warnings: Violence, spoilers, sexual situations and themes, adult language, yaoi/slash. The introduction to this is done in first person from multiple points of view. Following chapters will be third person.  
For Kate, as all my Harry Potter stories are.  
  
----  
**Prologue – The World Ended**  
----  
  
  
**_Ron Weasley_**  
  
I gaze up at the new calendar, staring blankly at the picture of the wizarding world's new lord and master. Perhaps he is of the entire world now. I don't know. The year is One ADV… Anno Domini Voldemort. The Year of Our Lord, Voldemort. In the daylight, I find it hard to believe that he defeated us, not to mention how he defeated us.  
  
In the icy grip of the endless seeming nights, I cry in remembrance.  
  
The picture upon the calendar of the new ruler sitting upon his throne with Nagini wrapped about it draws my eyes back even as they try to break away. It's without surprise but a sinking heart that I see that the picture is now smirking at me instead of its formerly cold and distant glare.  
  
Rising from my chair, I take the calendar down, wondering idly who bought such a thing to bring in here, the last safehouse of the Order of the Phoenix. Probably not one of my brothers. They hate our new lord more than anyone on the face of the earth, I think. He did raid the Burrow and reduce our mother to screaming pillar of fire when a simple Avada Kedavra would have killed her painlessly. Her eyes cooked in their sockets before death took her. I should know. I heard them pop like the seal of an overstressed boiling pan of water. Our father survived, although in my heart, I think it would have been better if the Dark Lord had taken him that day too. The gods forgive me, whatever gods might hear our pathetic cries and prayers, but I do. He's lost without Mother.  
  
Percy still lives, as does Fred, George, and Charlie. Bill was slaughtered along with the goblins when the Dark Lord and his forces stormed Gringotts. With Hogwarts falling, the wizard bank was considered by the survivors to be the most secure place to hide. Oddly enough, for all their twisted seeming, the goblins took in as many as they could before Voldemort attacked. They all died together.  
  
So many gone… If a man lives with ghosts, I surely do.  
  
The one ghost that never leaves my side is that of a young boy, perhaps fifteen. He was my best friend. With glasses perched on his nose and messy dark hair always refusing to be tamed, he still brings a small smile to my face whenever I catch glimpses of him in my memory. His emerald eyes are always alive then, sparkling with the victorious glee of winning a Quidditch match or getting some devilment past Snape.  
  
Snape is in Azkaban. We don't know if he's alive or dead there. The Dark Lord never was forgiving to those who tried to betray him.  
  
I miss that boy who haunts my memory, even as I gaze at the coldly imposing figure of our new Lord on the calendar, tracing the lightening shaped scar on the man's forehead.   
  
--------  
  
_**Hermione Granger**_  
  
"Out of the way, you Mudblood cunt!"  
  
I had sidestepped that Goyle waste before he was even close enough to shout his insult and take a swing at me. I think he likes doing that sort of thing anyways to try to embarrass me. Stupid git. Becoming one of the new Dark Lord's closest cronies hasn't given him anymore intelligence. Neither did seeing his former leader, Draco Malfoy, enlighten him on just how fleeting the favour of evil is.  
  
This isn't where I expected to find myself at the tender age of eighteen. Then again, I don't think that any of us did. I had thought that I might be some famous researcher or even a teacher at Hogwarts, not a common tavern girl that wasn't even good enough for the wizards to sleep with. After the fall of the forces of good, so many things changed. The fact that I can't wear robes by law is a small one. I can't wear makeup or shop at certain places. I'd often heard of segregation, but experiencing it is a wholly different thing. I may be a bright witch, but because I'm not a pureblood, I'm not fit for most of these people I serve drinks to and bear the sly pinches of to wipe their feet on.  
  
That's what the coming of the Dark Lord did for 'half-breeds' like myself. I fear to see what he'll do to the Muggle population if he ever gets into position or the urge to conquor them as well. I asked Parvati about what she thought would happen if he did. She only shook her head and said she rivers of Muggle blood if he did.   
  
We weren't able to stand against him in the end. How could they.  
  
Parvati is here with me too, only she's a prostitute. 'Spend the night with a Gryffindor woman' is what draws most of these dark ones from what I've seen. In that way, I pity her for being a pureblood. Her twin sister, Padma, is part of the Dark Lord's Court. A minor lady if I remember correctly. One sister lies in filth ridden sheets being used nightly by strange men while the other dances in splendor at the balls in what was once Hogwarts.  
  
The lines between those who stood with the Dark Lord and those who stood against him are razor sharp.  
  
I don't want to tell her or the other girls that Sirius Black has been captured finally and sent to Azkaban. He was our hope for a time. So many of us had hoped that the man who had been Harry Potter would show him some mercy. He didn't to the Dursleys when he had their house incinerated. Remus Lupin is still free, as are the Weasleys, Filch, Madame Maxine (although the Dark Lord had Beauxbatons burnt to the ground), Moody, Pince, Sprout…  
  
Then rolls the list of dead or missing through my mind. Severus Snape, last known to be in Azkaban. Minerva McGonagall, burnt at the stake during the new Dark Lord's coronation. Albus Dumbledore, the first victim of the new Voldemort during the war. Bill Weasley, presumed dead in the fall of Gringotts. Molly Weasley, murdered in her own home by fire as Ron and I watched in horror. She tried to defend us from him, begging him to remember who he was. He ground his foot into the sweater she had been making him before setting her alight. Rubeus Hagrid, fate unknown. He went into the Forbidden Forest to help the centaurs hold back those of the darkness. He never came back, and Maxine is four months along with their child.  
  
It's heartbreaking, but there are plenty of children without a mother, a father, or having lost both parents. Here in the gutters, few notice them. Nor do they notice me beyond someone to slap or grope when the mood strikes them. I bring them their liquor. That's all I exist for to them. Even then, they complain that they can taste the taint of Mudblood in their vile brews.  
  
In the early morning hours after closing, I'll go and sit upon the roof, watching the sun rise as I send off my owl with the night's spying information off to Ron. Then, I'll try to choke down a worm-ridden crust of bread.  
  
I wasn't there for the final battle or when Harry Potter declared himself to be the new Dark Lord.  
  
I'm not sure I would have wanted to be. This way, I can remember the boy I loved a little and liked a lot. I don't have to see him as the man who has slaughtered so many with his laughter ringing like the shriek of harpies.  
  
-------  
  
**_Sirius Black_**  
  
I'm not really surprised that the wizard's prison hasn't changed much. Only real change that I can see is that the good people are on the inside now rather than the outside. Well, that and time hasn't made the Dementors any prettier. Not that I can see all that well anyways. Amos Diggory blackened both of my eyes to being swollen nearly shut. The turncoat bastard. After the final battle when we lost Minerva McGonagall, we knew there was a spy in the Order. None of us expected it to be Diggory of all people. The Dark Lord had killed his only son! We were all wrong, again. Diggory betrayed us all and our location to Voldemort.  
  
My only comfort in that is that Ron and Hermione had left early, avoiding capture by chance. Remus hadn't been able to make it in time. I was the only one left who had any real knowledge of things, besides Diggory. When they were dragging me before the Dark Lord's throne, I could hear Diggory shrieking far off down the corridor that Voldemort had double crossed him, something about promising to bring Cedric back from the dead if his father helped him. News came later to me in my rat strewn cell that they had executed Amos and that his head sat out on a pike on the road to Hogwarts.  
  
I was able to meet those vicious dark green eyes of the thing that had been my godson, although I wish I hadn't. I hope with all that I am that somehow the Harry that I knew died before Voldemort joined with him. In the end, it doesn't matter. I would kill him anyways, and he knows that. It will kill me to do so, of that I'm quite sure, but I would do it. It would free the godson I only wanted to see live out his life in happiness from whatever twisted creature he is now. Better he be dead than this. I doubt anyone will ever remember him as the Boy Who Lived or as the one who risked his life against Voldemort for other's sake. The evil that men commit in life always outlives the good. I miss my Harry, and I am glad that James and Lily didn't live to see this.  
  
A bone rattling shove and tumble pulls me out of my thoughts as I blink blearily in the bare pinpoint of light illuminating the cell in which I now find myself. Lemme tell you, that little bit of light sure did make Walden MacNair's already pug-ugly face all the more squished looking. You know, I'm willing to bet that me breaking his nose when I was captured didn't help his looks much, although I really doubt it hurt them. That man ran blindly through the ugly forest.  
  
It's easier to ignore being spat upon than one would think. It's just liquid. It's not as bad as being pissed on. Trust me on that, especially to a canine's nose. I wipe it away and eye him. That child that was intentionally dropped on his head by his mother turns away, wishing me good luck with my roommate.  
  
Roommate?  
  
Feeling my way about the carved stone cell, I try to ignore the sounds of Akzaban around me. It's a horrible place. There's always someone crying, screaming, begging, or making some sort of sound that only a human in utter misery can. The Dementors silence them before long. I nearly jerk back as my hands encounter something marginally warm in one of the corners. In total darkness, it's hard to tell a face, but the lines of this one feel familiar beneath my fingers.   
  
And then it hits me.  
  
"Snape? Severus Snape?"  
  
What my eyes can't confirm, my sharp sense of smell can. Pulling the emaciated male into my arms, I held him as if he were the last person on earth for no reason other than simply joy at a familiar presence. No, we still weren't the best of friends or even friends really. However, he was here and real when nothing else was. Beggar dogs like me can't be choosers. At the sound of my voice, he stirred sluggishly and croaked out my name.  
  
Then the cold chill of a Dementor drawing out my joy descended upon the two of us like early winter.  
  
The rest was darkness.  
  
---------  
  
**_Draco Malfoy_**  
  
Today is Court Night. I despise these things. At least I'm clothed this time. Not that I mind in the least being naked in his presence. My Master would pluck the eyes of anyone daring to look on me covetously with a pair of white hot pincers. I simply prefer not to be buck naked before all the others trying to worm into his favour.  
  
My place is beside the Dark Lord's throne on the floor, a fine warm blanket of unicorn pelts making a mattress of sorts for me. There's room for me to stretch out if I desire. For now, I do. An intricately woven blanket lays unused for now beside me. The heat of the day still warms the Great Hall of Hogwarts, leaving it unneeded.  
  
Resting my head on the goose down pillow under my chin, a soft rattle of chain gains my annoyance. One end of it is attached to the collar bound around my throat, a collar that has no end and no beginning. The other end lies clasped about the wrist of the person who was Harry Potter, now the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Hardly seems fair, does it? Rolling my eyes, I ignore the petty whining wizard before us who is begging for help since the Death Eater razed his shoppe and all its contents. My Master evidentially isn't paying attention either since I feel his fingertips begin to slide through my hair absentmindedly. Lifting my head, I encircle a fingertip with my lips, a swirl of my tongue across the well manicured tip providing him with other thoughts of what we could be doing instead of listening to this puling weakling.  
  
Sultry green eyes lower to my own of quicksilver. It's easy to becoming lost in his gaze for me. Then again, I've never had to meet his with fear of destruction or pain. They're endless corridors of green, more shades than the human tongue is capable of naming. When he's angry, taints of crimson line their edges, the pupil shifting from a circle to a slit. Gods, but I love being fucked by him when he's like that. I can feel the restrained power of the ages lashing through the body of the eighteen year old that it now inhabits, taste it on his skin like some exotic chocolate.  
  
A hint of a twisted smile turns up his lips as his fingers draw away from my lips with an audible 'pop'. They slide once more through my hair and down to my back, drawing arcane shapes on the thin material as his eyes turn back to the pleader. I know the poor fool before us is lost. If he makes it out of the room alive, I'll be impressed. Weakness has no place among us.  
  
Lowering my head back to the pillow with a purr at the feathery touches roaming across my spine, I pet Nagini slowly. Much to popular belief, snakes aren't cold and slimy. She's generally warm if she's laying around my bed like a barrier as she is now or a bit cool if she's been out hunting. Either way, she's rarely far from me and thus her Master since we're always together. She nuzzles my hair briefly in thanks before curling tighter about the unicorn skins I recline on. One foolish person tried to charge us, intent on either stabbing myself or the Dark Lord. Nagini crushed most of the life from him before swallowing him whole. I could still hear his whimpering cries from within her skin hours later, not to mention the rippling bulges he made in digestion.  
  
I had never thought I would end my days with Harry Potter of all people or as the Prince Consort of the Wizarding World. Can't say it's a bad thing either. Most of those Gryffindors are dead, especially the Mudblood ones. I still want that Weasley bastard's head on a pike outside along with that Granger for his laughter when Moody transfigured me into a ferret. Yes, I know it was the real Moody, but still… it would make me feel better. He's promised them to me for my birthday next month. I can look out one of the windows to my left and see the fly blown remains of Dumbledore's next to that of McGonagall's. And now we have Sirius Black. It won't be long before they're all out there, a silent and dead guard.  
  
Laughter bubbles up in my throat as I curl up against the soft pelts, closing my eyes for a short nap while my Master's rumbling voice proclaims doom to another.  
  
(to be continued)  
  



	2. Chapter One Crime and Punishment

Title: Anno Domini Voldemort  
Author: Seguchi Touma  
C&C: admin@wasuremono.com  
Spoilers: The whole series  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just made him evil.  
Warnings: Violence, spoilers, sexual situations and themes, adult language, yaoi/slash.   
For Kate, as all my Harry Potter stories are.  
To Ana for being my evil Harry Potter… and liking it.  
-------  
  
**Akzaban – One ADV**  
  
Sirius came to slowly, his mind feeling as if some spider had crept within and wrapped layers of dusty silk around his thoughts. Dementor he reminded himself. What he wouldn't give for a wand to wipe out the lot of them. Not that he had possessed a wand for quite awhile anyways… Trying to stretch his muscles without rising since his legs couldn't yet be trusted, Sirius didn't fully notice the weight in his arms at first. Slowly, the needling sensation of numbness registered itself, spreading from his thighs to feet and shoulders to fingertips. He had before of having to pry fingers off something, but this was the first time he'd been forced to do it to himself. The cramp frozen muscles had refused any signals his brain sent to get them to unclench.  
  
Sirius remembered hazily the coldness sweeping across his back, the deadness slithering across his mind that marked a Dementor's attack when he had discovered Severus Snape. Overall, he was surprised the former Potions Master was even alive. Most of Voldemort's enemies were on pikes, lining the road to Hogwarts.   
  
"Severus?" he croaked, voice cracking on every other word. That's what one got for lingering in animal form for too long. Wouldn't have shocked him if it had all come out as a bark.  
  
"If you… give me fleas… I am turning you into a toad."  
  
"Get up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning?" Black asked as he forced himself into a standing position, still holding Snape in his arms. Dear Merlin! How much weight had Snape lost? He didn't seem to feel like more than a branch in his arms, the sharp angles of bones pressing ruthlessly against Sirius' arms. Falling more than sitting back on the hard slab of stone that passed as a bed in this Hell, he shifted Severus in his arms to get a good look at him.   
  
Snape's eyes hadn't changed much, the cold light on mica look still inhabiting the onyx orbs. The rest of him was wasted nearly beyond mortal comprehension. The Potions Master's long black hair had never been particularly pretty to Sirius, but now it was ragged, patches of it having a chewed look to it. Nausea welled in his stomache as he thought that Snape might have done just that if their captors had decided not to feed him for a stretch. Wouldn't be the first time prisoners had done it here in Akazaban to survive. The sallowness was gone from Snape's skin as well, although Sirius couldn't say that he much liked the corpse white shade that had replaced it. Twelve years of experience told him that Severus Snape wouldn't survive much longer.  
  
Forcing a wan smile onto his own bloodied face, Sirius leaned his head back against the cold stone wall. Water trickled down it in slow streams, adding to the dampness. Bloody mystery to him why more of the wizard prison's captives didn't die of pneumonia. "I think my fleas took off for better places when they saw where Voldemort was going to put me, old man. They would have preferred it if I had stayed in the Bahamas according to the last memo they sent me."  
  
"Stop talking… Sirius. Give me a… headache," Severus wheezed out, coughing harshly as he finished. An ominous bubbling sound wound through his hacking, telling dark tales of the fluid gathering in the man's lungs. "And put… me down."  
  
Black smirked faintly as he stretched the two of them out on the miserable stone bed instead, spooning himself against Snape's back. Heat was precious in this place, and neither of them could afford to waste it. They couldn't afford to waste words either, especially if it led to an argument. Another display of emotion would draw the Dementors back like carrion birds. "Go to sleep, Snape," he murmured against the man's ear, curling against him tightly. "Don't think. Don't hate. Sleep. It's about all one can do in here. Don't even dream if you can help it."  
  
Severus Snape closed his eyes, lying silently against the bulk of Sirius Black. Out of all the ways to end his life, he hadn't foreseen doing so with this particular person. The offered advice of keeping himself blank had been useless, something that would have brought a smirk to his lips in earlier times. Gryffindors always assumed they knew something before the rest of the world did. What they usually failed to realize is that everyone else knew it long ago but didn't bother telling the dunderheads out of niceness or a desire to watch them fall on their collective prats. Any fool who knew anything about Dementors realized that bringing a wall between themselves and their emotions was the only way to survive. That is, if one termed this surviving.  
  
*So why do I keep staving off death? * Severus wondered to himself as he began to slide down into a doze. *What is the use anymore? I think I want to see how it all turns out. Maybe to say that I was right when everyone else thought I was wrong. If they had only restrained Potter more instead of letting him do his own thing constantly, he never would have been stupid enough to charge Voldemort by himself. He had to go and be the Gryffindor, didn't he? He had to go jump into battle not knowing what faced him or how to even defend himself really. Granted, the boy was more than brilliant at what he did, but he had no idea what the Deatheaters were really capable of…*  
  
A memory's voice whispered in his mind, the words of the creature that had been Harry Potter at one time. "I loved you, you know. I can save you still. All you have to do is call me Master and be mine."  
  
He hadn't in the end, even if he had wanted to. Voldemort lurked behind those gemlike green eyes, the Voldemort that had enjoyed inflicted pain and known nothing of love that wasn't taken by force.  
  
Guilt spiraled down into sleep with Severus Snape. Of course Potter hadn't really known the full extend of any Deatheater's treachery. There had always been something better to do than rake up the past and go through his own sordid history. There had never been time. There had never been the moments taken either to tell the boy… then a man… how he'd felt. Now there was no time at all.  
  
There was nothing.  
  
-------------  
  
**Gringott's Pub – One ADV**  
  
There were many things that George Weasley would never forgive the thing that was now Harry Potter for. One of them was the building of a whorehouse on the ground where his brother and at least two hundred other wizards had died along with an unknown amount of goblins. To add injury to insult, the Dark Lord himself had suggested the name of 'Gringott's' for the place. Deatheaters now caroused and screwed where his brother had died. It was ground that should have been nearly holy. Instead, it had been desecrated with the semen of Deatheaters, their vomit when they drank too much, and their presence.   
  
Somewhere beneath all the rubble that the pub/brothel had been built on laid the remains of Bill.  
  
Forcing the bile back down his throat, George picked at the plate Hermione sat before him without any appetite. The door being thrown open by a breathless Neville Longbottom was the only thing that saved him from having to explain his mood from his friend.  
  
"Tonight!" Neville whispered harshly, eyes darting about the room like a trapped rabbit's.  
  
Both of them froze at the announcement, eyes wide. Hermione twisted her hands together, lowering her head in thought. "Ron is going with them?" she asked, fear betraying her calmness as she spoke.  
  
Neville nodded quickly, opening the door and peeking out. Of all the people to be one of the Order of the Phoenix's greatest spies, Neville Longbottom was perfectly suited. No one ever really paid attention to him, and few bothered to learn the name of a heavyset, bumbling wizard with a dull moonface. People like Neville somehow slipped below the sightline of those who thought themselves to be society's best and brightest. Those ugly, fat, clumsy, stupid, and anything else they considered unworthy were overlooked and treated with indifference. That indifference gave Neville all the room he needed to work in. Since the fall of Hogwarts, he had become invaluable to the Order. He went into places none of them with their well-known faces and names could. He listened and listened well, reporting all that there was nearly exactly as it had been said. It was Neville that made the dangerous journeys from Order member to Order member, relaying information that owls couldn't and people would have been executed for. If they ever won this war, Hermione was sure that Neville would be up for Merlin, First Class.   
  
Neville voice hadn't changed much since their Hogwarts days, the unsure and rabbity timbre still giving him the false front of being nothing more than a coward. How easily people forgot that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. The weight he had carried in school still hung on him. Out of all of them, he seemed to have been frozen in time as a sixteen year old while they grew up. "Ron is going with them, yes. I can't believe they're doing it. Charlie is leading the attack with the others bringing up the rear. They said to go ahead and do it, Hermione, and get yourselves out without delay."  
  
Hermione nodded brusquely. It was only one thing. Parvati had been right when she had whispered earlier that tonight would be the night. Swallowing thickly, Hermione adjusted her clothing, the ragged dress revealing more than it covered. Just the way the Deatheaters swarming beyond these doors at the bar liked it. Right. Go on, Neville. I'm sure you have more to tell. George, are you going with him?"  
  
George nodded as he rose, sweeping past her to exit down the corridor with Neville. Sliding the ribbon into her hair to pull back the tresses, Hermione sighed softly to herself. She remembered a time when a person couldn't have hexed the grin off George Weasley's face. He had always been laughing, playing some prank, or trying to see just how far he could push those in authority before they snapped. That had been before his twin was committed to Saint Mungo's, or rather the version of it that now existed in the Underground. Fred had been the victim of Har… Voldemort's cruel ways. Even in her mind, Hermione couldn't call the thing that walked around in her old friend's body by the name James and Lily Potter had given him. It was sacrilege.   
  
Erasing the last traces of any of them being in the storeroom, Hermione headed for the main room of the pub. She had ale to spike with special honey. These particular bees had been fed a diet consisting entirely of oleander flowers. Regardless of how pretty the oleander plant looked, it was one of the most toxic in the world. Everything about it was poisonous. Smoke from a fire with the plants on it would kill, as would water that the blossoms had sat in for a time. On the downside, it had a slightly bitter taste to it. Professor Snape had been the one that had came up with the idea of raising bees on the plant, something that Professor Sprout had backed up as pure genius.   
  
Ignoring the 'mudblood' chants and sly gropes, Hermione put on her best miserable looking smile as she began preparing the evening's drinks. It wouldn't do to look too happy with the fact that she was about to kill a pub full of drunken Deatheaters.  
  
----------  
  
**Akzaban – One ADV**  
  
"Are you nervous?"  
  
"Scared out of my bloody mind."  
  
Charlie Weasley grinned at Percy, still amused beyond belief that his brother was seated on the dragon beside him. A bit saddened by that fact as well, if truth were to be told. Percy should have had a calm and unremarkable life in the Ministry devoting his time to issues such as cauldrons or regulations on wand cores. Where he shouldn't be was perched on a dragon's back, waiting for the signal with the rest of them. Pushing that melancholic desire for days long gone, Charlie's gaze returned once more to the fortress ahead of them as he urged his mount into a dive.  
  
The first impact shook Akzaban to the foundations, sending webbings of cracks along solid walls and dust from the ceilings in clouds. Dragon roars shattered the deathly silence, nearly frightening more than a few prisoners into heart attacks, believing that the Dark Lord's fury had come for them at last.  
  
  
"For Hogwarts!"  
  
The battle cry of the attackers brought hope to those who believed for so long that there was none to be had. Dementors and wizards fought against each other, neither side refusing to give. There was little that even those magical creatures could do against a properly inspired dragon though. The top of the wizard's prison was ripped off, lifted by six of the reptilian beasts as easily as a child would open a dollhouse. The mad scramble began to rescue those they could before the Dark Lord's forces caught wind of what was happening.  
  
"Sirius! Sirius Black!"  
  
Someone had crept into his cell and put gum across his eyes. Sirius made a mental note to find out who it was, contract rabies, and promptly bite them. Returning to the land of the 'living'… as close as it came here… he blinked stupidly. Shock shut down the thinking parts of his mind.   
  
"Sirius, we have to go. Now! Give Snape to Charlie."  
  
Boneless feeling arms let go of Severus Snape as the Weasley male scooped up the Potions Master and fled into the corridor with him. Somehow, moonlight was streaming into the hall outside his cell door. That was impossible since Akzaban had no skylights, nor would any sort of light been encouraged to enter the place. Those guarding them certainly wouldn't have let Remus Lupin pay him a visit or the door to his cell be left hanging wide open. He'd gone crazy seemed to be the only logical explanation. Well, if he had done just that, chances were that Snape's tolerance for foolishness would run out quick, and the other man would slap him back to reality. Had he ever noticed before that Remus' eyes were a swirling spectrum of brown shades, highlighted in anger by hints of gold? Probably not. Strange the things one noticed when in the full grip of dementia. Come to think of it, if Severus woke him up from this fantasy, he would have to hurt him. With his cheeks flushed from battle, Remus was more than a bit desirable. While he wasn't the one to give into the siren call of wet dreams, Sirius didn't foresee anything else on his schedule while trapped here.   
  
Remus rolled his eyes as he leaned forward and seized hold of Sirius' shoulders, shoving him to his feet. They had bare moments until the Deatheaters would begin to arrive and turn this raid into a bloodbath. There was no time for his lover to sit there like a lump. *Please Merlin don't let them have damaged his mind somehow* Remus thought wildly as he finally got Black up and moving. *Don't have let Harry have broken his mind. *  
  
Five minutes later, chilling winds swept up around Sirius Black as the dragon took flight, convincing him slowly that this wasn't a dream. If it was, he still didn't want to wake up. Remus' arms felt secure around him, nullifying the bleakness that had taken hold upon discovering that he was being sent back to Akzaban. After surviving twelve long years, he'd sworn he wouldn't go back. He couldn't go back. Death was preferable in this fantasy that returning to the hard reality of hell. Tentative fingers stretched out to touch on the dragon's neck before them, confirming for himself their solidness. A childlike expression of the mad want to believe going to war with what he knew, or thought he knew, to be true. No one escaped from Akzaban. No one.  
  
Remus' fingers threaded gently through Sirius' hair, guessing at the other's confused and disoriented state of mind. Right now, he couldn't afford to worry about that. The mission had been a success, one of the few they'd had since Dumbledore's death. Both Snape and Black were free, not to mention others they hadn't expected to find. Finding Gilderoy Lockheart there had been a surprise. Why bother to lock up a man who barely remembered who he was from week to week, much less what was going on around him? Colin Creevey had been picked up by Percy Weasley, the man looking more like the boy he had been when Lupin first saw him. Were they fed at all in there? Lee Jordan sat being Percy, someone that he hoped George would be happy to see.   
  
Resting his head against Sirius', he sighed softly, "We're going home, love. Just stay with me until then."  
  
-------  
**Hogwarts – One ADV**  
  
Draco Malfoy moaned as teeth attacked his shoulder, leaving red marks in their wake across his milk pale skin. Sweat cast a crystalline sheen across his skin, glinting in his hair like precious gems. Even as Harry drove into him again, he relished the power flowing between the two of them. The small pains of roughness didn't bother him in the least. If anything, they were a fine spice added to an already sumptuous dish.  
  
"They escaped…"  
  
Those two words hissed against his ear made even Draco's breath stutter before the next thrust knocked it back out of him. So there really had been a raid on the wizard's prison. Annoying as the modern day Marauders were, they were ballsy to say the least. Either that or suicidal. Either would get them dead. A scrape of nails across the small of his back jerked Draco out of his own thoughts and back to what he was doing. Not that he could ever really forget when he was riding Harry Potter.  
  
Slim fingers bit cruel lines into the flesh of Draco's hips, the same hands that could turn a wand flawlessly in the intricate moves of a death curse. Nails raked his back again, leaving red stripes across the whirling and secret patterns of runes that the Dark Lord had ordered tattooed across the full expanse of Draco's skin. From his neck down to his ankles and wrists, every inch was covered with the sinuous twisting of the arcane symbols. The collar of silver as well as anklet and wrist cuffs were all that Draco ever wore inside of their own chambers. Well, except for the occasional times when the Dark Lord took a fancy to decorating his pet's skin with chains of silver or gems. While people on the street sometimes chewed on their own hands before dying of hunger, Draco Malfoy had a fortune that would have far surpassed even his father's in gemstones alone, most of them scattered haphazardly about the room in piles.  
  
Who would have been stupid enough to attempt to steal from the Dark Lord?  
  
White hot climax born of pleasure and pain winding together until they exploded caused Draco's body to arch like a bowstring. Shrieking his completion, he felt a lash of heated liquid plunge deep within him, flash fire burning its own path within his body. Faintness swept over him as the Dark Lord's arms brought him down to lay beside him, cold hands settling on either side of Malfoy's face. Crimson lightening flashed through the verdant fields of his Master's eyes, striking the now reptilian slit pupil, the eye of the hurricane.   
  
A voice as cold as a long forgotten grave caressed his ears, the very sound making his erection that had been trying for a second round, go limp against his semen slick thigh.  
  
"Draco," it purred, the rumblings of a rabid man-eating tiger, "you're going to help me with my newest project. How does that sound?"

(tbc)  



End file.
